"Looks Like We Made It' !!!

So I did it!
I beat the time limit and managed to submit that stupid treatment in before it was too late! I am a nervous wreck right now, and decompressing is a must or my brain will explode, but I am so happy!! I DID IT!! WHOOO HOOOO!

I had the option of either missing the appointment with the club people for the photo contract or missing a chance to get my stuff (at least) into the doors of the Comedy Network. I weighed the options: Club people? Often unreliable (like yesterday when I showed up for nothing as they has just convened an 'emergency meeting and were unable to see me) or have the opportunity for some people who actually work in the comedy/TV industry which I would DIE to get into, look over some of (at least what I think is funny) my sketch pieces. It was a double gamble. I threw the dice and decided to glue my eyes to the monitor and entwine my fingers around my keyboard until I brought to term that baby of a comedic embryo. I had a few friends call me during my pinnacle moment of momentum who were curtyly greeted with: "Hey! I can't talk I am writing this comedy thing and I am on a deadline cant stop now to think am in the middle of a FLOW I'll call you later I gotta go BYE!'' which was all said before they even had a chance to say 'Hello'! I guess it was some sort of comedic 'survival instinct' that drove me to finish, and finish with zeal. I wonder if the cavemen used humour to get themselves out of 'sticky' situations? One cave man finds you sleeping with his woman. He is about to club you to death. What do you do? Act like an idiot! Wave your arms around in the air, and wail like a rabid complete idiot monkey must have gone over really well at the tar pits! I guess it would stand to reason why some people have a more acute sense of timing and sense of humour than others. As Rodney Daingerfield said: "I get no respect!", but comedians might very well be one of the secret links/reasons as to why we, as a species, have survived as long as we have! Without the ability to laugh at ourselves, and the human folly, I think people would have killed themselves off a long time go!

So back to my 'episode'...
I was sitting at the computer, my eyes bugging out, as dry as sandpaper cause I had not blinked in more than an hour, my fingers cramping into a twisted mess from typing in a damp room for so long, when I caught a glimpse of the BIG PUNCH LINE in the distance. It was 6:15pm and the FedEx offices were closing at 7pm. I had a little over 40 minutes to print all the stuff, hop in the car, zip downtown, fill out the waybill (that alone takes 10 minutes and a tech. Vocational degree) and bid my proposal a safe trip down the 401. As you would expect, the printer slowed down, the paper jammed, I had to do a spell check, my headers and footers began to appear on the top, bottom and sides of every document, and outside, the steady flow of Thursday night traffic was congealing like a layer of cold fat in a pot of fresh chicken broth.

6:35pm: I could feel those 'nervous hives' furiously percolating beneath the surface of my skin.
My man began to state the obvious:
"you know you wont have enough time to -'.

I held up one hand in the air as the other blindly fiddled and filed sheets of paper. He knew then not to say any more. I hate to think what I would have done had he continued to orate as my other hand unconsciously groaped for the stapler...

6:38pm: I was crossing the 4 lane busy street without any regard to the oncoming speeding traffic: you can kill me but you cant kill my IDEA, MY DREAM!! We were rolling at 6:40pm.


The next 20 minutes were a complete blur. Time seemed to speed up, and then slow down at every stop sign, every imbecile that got their licence out of a pre-foamed soap dispenser box, every old person and woman with a baby who thought they could begin to cross the street as the light turned yellow. My day flashed before my eyes. My whole career flashed before my eyes. I felt dizzy and my muscles were as brittle as Billy Idol's hair. Can we make it? Can we do this? IF there is a GOD, and this is meant to be, I will get there in time...

So between me and the man, we managed to get our directions wrong. He said FedEx and I said I knew where it was. Without even stopping the car, I rolled out of the passenger seat T.J. Hooker style, stumbled onto the sidewalk and ran towards the outlet. I think I must have lost consciousness for a nano-second as I realized that I was running towards a sign that said Purolator , not the FedEx, but miraculously, my legs kept on moving and did not come to a screeching halt, not listening my mind that whispered in a feeble and tiny voice saying: ' Oh fuck. Its not FedEx...'.

I almost whipped the door off of its hinges (an adrenaline rush can give you incredible strength - remember baby Superman in the movie when he lifts the car above his tiny little head?) and stumbled to the counter. In between gasps I asked:
"What time is your last pick-up?"

I was waiting for that dammed "Acme" cartoon anvil to come falling from the sky - the Purolator clerk being the Road Runner, and me - the coyote.
"To Toronto? Oh, its at 9pm.' In a Julie Andrews sing- song voice she smiled: "You still have lots of time - its only a minute shy of 7."

My body didn't know whether to collapse in exhaustion, dance around like a crazy fool, freeze completely from the state of shock or burst out crying. I think I might have done all of them simultaneously, and because of the sheer magnitude and intensity of all those feelings, they managed to cancel each other out. I blurted out in a monotone voice:
'Oh my God. You are the best. I am going to name my first child Purolator."
She kind of snickered and looked at me in a weird way, not knowing whether to take me seriously or call 911.

We did the paperwork, and while filling out the waybill, I opened the floodgates and blathered on about the contents of the envelope, my childhood dream to become a comedian, "Take my parents, please!" and how fate and the universe had steered me to this office. I am convinced people like me are the reason why companies like Purolator have such amazing employee benefits and generous sick days...

I carefully put my envelope into another envelope (a fancy paper condom), sealed it, and made the sign of the cross over the waybill.
"Godspeed', I mumbled under my breath. I handed her the red, blue and white envelope and thanked her for making my night, weekend, beginning of the month and end of the year. A little niceness goes a long way. As I type this, I am hoping that what comes around goes around, and that some creative mind in Toronto will look at my script and say: "My God. This is brilliant. This is IT."

But if not, I am happy to know that there was a small miracle waiting for me around the corner, and that perhaps, I made somebody's day a little brighter by being thankful that they were there when I needed them.